


Private Literature

by kiminsocks



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Memory Loss, Mind the warnings, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, concussion, it may get a little graphic at times
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-19
Updated: 2017-06-02
Packaged: 2018-11-02 14:27:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10946412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiminsocks/pseuds/kiminsocks
Summary: Tony is lost in his dreams. And even more lost when he wakes up.Reality is merely an illusion, albeit a very persistent one.-Albert Einstein





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For warnings, see end author's notes. Warning for the warnings: they contain spoilers.
> 
> Title from this quote by Aldous Huxley: _Every man's memory is his private literature._

_The unreal is more powerful than the real. Because nothing is as perfect as you can imagine it. Because it's only intangibles, ideas, concepts, beliefs, fantasies that last. Stone crumbles. Wood rots. People, well, they die._

-Chuck Palahniuk, _Choke_

 

1.

“But see, if I do that there’s too much power rerouted to the jet boots and then I fly straight into the ceiling — again — and your father wouldn’t like that very much. You don’t even want to know how long I was banned from the workshop after he saw the tapes of the initial Iron Man testing, it was terrible, I was a prisoner in my own house, my own _Tower_ , I was like Rapunzel except with less golden blonde hair and more super cool tech gadgets. Am I right, JARVIS? Tell the kid.”

“Of course sir. You were the image of Rapunzel.”

Tony sticks his tongue out at the ceiling childishly, hiking Jamie up to settle more firmly on his hip. The kid is mouthing at a gummy silicone wrench, part of the toolkit Natasha got him when he started teething. It’s covered in drool, and so is Tony’s Black Sabbath t-shirt, but he figures he might not be the neatest guy if he had no teeth either, so he lets it slide this time.

Bouncing from foot to foot, he jiggles Jamie on his hip while he rambles on about repulsors and thrust and other awesome scientific things that he secretly hopes is seeping into the kid’s brain in some type of osmosis or exposure-related learning or something. Hearing his own voice (and the occasional nonsensical babble from the baby on his hip) isn’t quite as conducive to random bursts of genius as ear-bleeding levels of classic rock music, but Steve had made it abundantly clear that if Tony didn’t put on something more soothing at a much lower volume, Jamie wasn’t allowed in the lab at all. So Tony capitulated, and now there’s classical music floating through the air, which definitely isn’t Aerosmith, but is better than the 40’s and 50’s stuff Steve likes, and Tony would never be caught dead listening to Today’s Top 40. (Though some of that Taylor Swift stuff that Steve likes is pretty catchy, he’s not gonna lie.)

He hears a throat clearing and turns around, still rocking from foot to foot. Steve is standing in the entry way, one shoulder leaning against the glass wall, well-defined arms crossed in front of his chest and smiling a goofy little smile that nearly melts Tony into a puddle of sappiness and goo on his workshop floor.

Tony raises an eyebrow at Steve and smirks, leaning down to nuzzle into Jamie’s soft baby hair. “Your Daddy is staring at us. He thinks I’m sexy.” Jamie makes a gurgling noise and grabs Tony’s nose with a slimy hand, and Tony reaches up to gently disengage his little fist. “Yes, he wants to do filthy things to this face.”

“Tony!” He chuckles at Steve’s horrified tone of voice, and looks back up as he strides over to the pair of them. Steve rolls his eyes and smiles, shaking his head, a faint blush on his pale cheeks. Reaching them, he leans down to kiss the top of Jamie’s head, then catches Tony’s lips on his way back up.

“You’re a terrible influence on him,” Steve says after he breaks away, grinning ruefully. Tony laughs, hiking Jamie up higher against his side. Jamie makes another happy gurgling noise.

“Me? I’m almost 100% sure the kid was giving me the silent treatment this morning because I accidentally left his nappy in his crib. He wouldn’t even babble until I went back up there and got it. I wonder who he learned that one from,” Tony says wryly. At the mention of his nappy, Jamie drops his slobber-covered wrench to the floor and reaches out with grabby hands, clenching and unclenching his little fists and making vaguely “nappy”-sounding grunts. Tony sighs and walks over to the workshop counter. His blue baby blanket is tucked under a gauntlet, and Tony one-handedly yanks it out from underneath, making a pleased noise when the gauntlet doesn’t go toppling to the workshop floor. He wiggles his eyebrows and takes a slight bow to Steve, who rolls his eyes again. The blanked is transferred to Jamie and the noises immediately change from needy to pleased.

Steve had followed him across the workshop and was now standing directly in front of him, almost crowding Tony to the countertop. He looks serious, and so goddamn beautiful Tony catches himself wondering again how he got so lucky. How this is his life. His eyes flutter closed as he leans up for a kiss, and Steve indulges him, cupping Tony’s cheeks in his hands gently.

They’re interrupted when Jamie squeals loudly, not exactly keen on being squished between his two daddies. Or maybe it’s because he dropped his nappy, who knows. Steve chuckles and kisses Tony softly one more time before pulling away.

He’s bending down to pick up Jamie’s nappy when the Avengers alarm begins to blare loudly. Jamie cries out and Steve bolts upright, the small blanket clutched tightly in his hand, mouth a thin line.

Tony’s brain kicks into gear and he makes eye contact with Steve before spinning around to the computer display behind him. One handed, he starts to pull up information. “JARVIS?” he calls over the sound of the alarm.

“Hydra, sir. They appear to be breaking into Sunrise Medical Laboratories, 86th and Madison.”

The readouts match what he says, showing the location of the lab. Tony turns back to Steve, who’s still got the blanket clenched in his hand. He looks concerned, but then his Captain face takes over and he nods tightly.

“My turn,” he says, reaching for Jamie. Tony hands over the squalling baby, then leans over and kisses him on the crown of his head, eyes squeezed shut. It’s always hard to leave, knowing he might not come back. He looks back up at Steve, and kisses him hard on the lips.

“I’ll be back in a little bit, okay?” He says, eyes boring into Steve’s. There’s always so much he wants to say in these moments but his mouth doesn’t never seems to want to cooperate. Steve understands him anyway, wonderful Steve, and he nods, eyes suspiciously shiny. Tony continues, “It’ll be a piece of cake. In and out, and then we can order in and watch Dora the Explorer: Puppies Galore for the thousandth time, alright?” Steve snorts out a little laugh and Tony manages a smile.

He’s turning back to call his suit to him when Steve grabs his arm, halting his progress. He looks back at his husband, with their child in his arms, and Tony suddenly wants to say screw it, let the rest of the Avengers handle it, he’s staying right here with his family. 

Steve finds his eyes again and his voice is solemn.

“I love you, Tony. Stay safe.”

Tony’s throat is tight and he doesn’t have time for this, his team needs him and Steve can take care of Jamie and no matter how much he loves them there are people that need him more right now.

He leans back in for another kiss before he pulls away completely, walking backwards to keep them in his sight as long as possible. “I love you too. Get to the saferoom and let me know when you’re settled, okay? I’ll be back before you know it.” Steve nods and turns to go, back straight and striding purposefully out the door with their son in his arms, and Tony takes a deep breath, lets it out, and suits up.

In the end, it actually is a relatively quick, in-and-out mission. Hydra’s breaking into a laboratory, again, for equipment and blood samples and all other kinds of disturbing supplies for whatever horrifying human experiments they’re trying to run now. It’s quick and easy, and they eliminate most of the threat without a struggle. There are four agents that made it into the basements of the lab before the Avengers got there and are now holding hostages, which is slowing the process down a little, but Natasha and Clint are on their way through the vents while police attempt to reason with the hostage-takers.

Tony taps back into Steve over his comm. The little window in the upper right hand corner of his HUD shows their panic room. Jamie is playing with his teething ring in his crib while Steve is sitting at the computer desk, watching the raid on the screens set up there. He speaks into their private comm line.

“Almost all clear, Cap, Widow and Hawkeye are on their way down to take out the rest, and we’ll be home before you know it.”

Steve’s voice is one hundred percent Captain America when he responds. “It’s not over until those hostages are safe and the Hydra agents are in custody.”

Over the team comm, he hears shots, then Natasha’s voice, “Hydra agents eliminated. Hostages secure.”

Tony grins ruefully. “Well, the hostages are safe, at least. I don’t know about the whole taking-Hydra-into-custody part.”

Steve sighs, but Tony can hear the relief in his voice when responds over the team line. “Good job, team. Clean up, and we’ll see you back at the Tower.” Tony sees his shoulders slump as he puts his head in his hands. Tony hovers in midair, letting the NYPD take over now that the hard part’s done. 

“Hey, Steve, everyone’s okay, yeah? We got ‘em, nobody got hurt.”

He hears Steve sigh, sees him get up and walk over to Jamie’s crib, smooth down the little tufts of dark hair on his head. Tony’s heart clenches.

“I know, Tony. I just hate not being there to help you guys. I worry, is all.” Tony doesn’t have anything to say to that. He knows the feeling, when he’s the one sitting in the saferoom with his eyes glued to the computer screens, gunshots and screams in his ears and nothing he can do but wait.

“I’m gonna come back early, they can handle the cleanup without me, there weren’t even any explosions this time.” Steve laughs and Tony smiles slightly. It’s crazy, the things he would do just to hear that laugh. He’s such a goner.

“You just don’t want to do the boring stuff, Tony, I know you.” Tony grins as he turns his suit back toward the Tower. “You’re always trying to get out of cleanup, it’s —“ Steve’s voice cuts off and Tony’s eyes dart up to the little screen on his display.

“Steve?” he asks.

Steve is creeping back toward the panic room door, pressing his ear against the smooth surface.

“Steve,” he barks.

“They’re trying to get in,” Steve says, voice low.

“Fuck.” Tony’s heart stops, then starts beating again at a pace that surely isn’t healthy. He fires the thrusters at full power, orders the Avengers back to the Tower in the same breath. It was a distraction, it was all to get to Steve. There’s a chorus of Affirmatives.

On his screen, Steve is backing slowly away from the door. “Tony, they’re right outside the door.” His voice is still quiet. He grabs his shield from where it had been leaning against the wall. He’s standing in front of Jamie’s crib now, and Jamie has gone silent, perhaps sensing the tension in the room.

Steve must hear something, because he looks right at the camera in the corner of the room, right into Tony’s eyes. “Tony, I love you. I love you so much—“ He’s cut off when the door explodes inward and dust and debris obscures Tony’s view.

“Fuck! Steve! STEVE!” Tony is screaming into the comms. He’ll be at the Tower in 20 seconds, but it’s too long, he needs to be there now. Where is Steve? What happened? “JARVIS!”

“Sir, I have been locked out of the saferoom. I have no control over that area of the Tower.” He sounds frightened. It terrifies Tony down to his bones.

The view inside the saferoom clears slightly and Tony hears shouting and the ring of vibranium, Steve’s shield slicing through the air. Steve takes down four agents before one gets a lucky shot in, bullet ripping into his calf. He falls to one knee, still flinging his shield furiously around the room, ricocheting off walls and into the heads of the intruders. There’s a pile of bodies by the door, but there are too many crowding into the room, and another bullet catches Steve in the shoulder. Jamie is screaming his head off in the corner of the room and Tony’s heart clenches so tight in his chest he thinks he might actually be having a heart attack. Ten more seconds, his readouts tell him, he will be there in ten seconds, please, please don’t be too late…

Steve’s back up on his feet, roaring with fury when a bullet hits him in the chest and this time Tony’s sure his heart stops. He watches as Steve’s eyes go wide with shock before he falls to his knees.

“Steve,” Tony gasps out. He can’t breathe, his throat is closed up and his chest is being squeezed by bands of iron and he can see the Tower, he’s flying down Park but it’s too late, Steve’s dying in front of his eyes and he’s not even there to save him, to help him.

“Tony,” Steve pants. Blood is flowing out of his wounds, life seeping away too much too fast. His eyes close, then open sluggishly to look at the man who shot him. His voice comes out hoarse, full of pain. “Please,” he gasps. The man looks at Jamie, then back at Steve, and then he raises his gun and shoots Steve in the head.

It feels like the bullet hits Tony. He blacks out for a second, but then he’s back, gasping for air, tears streaming down his face, still flying in the suit. His vision is swimming and he isn’t sure he’s actually breathing at all but he has to get to Jamie. He has to. He’s approaching the Tower, a hundred yards, fifty.

The man steps over Steve’s body and over to Jamie’s crib. Tony watches in horror and he pushes his suit faster, warnings flashing across the HUD. The man never lowers his gun, points it straight at their son. Tony’s streaking past the landing pad, through the penthouse living room, down the hallway. He can see the men outside the door, fires repulsors at them without slowing down, aims to kill. He's there, he’s almost there, he’s turning the corner just in time to see the gun go off.

A repulsor takes out the gunman but he’s too late. He’s too late. He can’t breathe. He can’t think, he can’t breathe, he can’t stand anymore, he’s falling to his knees and gasping for air. Steve, Jamie, his family, his life, they’ve just been taken away from him, he can’t think, he must be asleep, this is a nightmare and he needs to wake up, please please let him wake up, please.

There are hands on his shoulders, pulling him back, out of the room, and it might be Hydra but he doesn’t care, they should just kill him too. He has nothing left to live for. He looks up, sees Steve lying in a pool of blood, his blood, facedown, shield at his side. Sees the small figure of his son in his crib, pale yellow wall behind covered in red. He scrambles for the catches on the armor, can’t find them his hands are shaking so badly, gasps out “JARVIS.”

The suit releases him and someone pulls him out into the hallway and he collapses, retching onto the floor. He heaves and heaves until there’s nothing, he’s just gasping for breath and his vision is spotted with black but he can still see Steve and Jamie so clearly, can see the gun going off, can see the deep red of their blood, and he chokes again, on his hands and knees, body rocking forward.

Awareness starts to seep in and he realizes someone is holding him up, hands on his back and shoulders. They’re murmuring to him, but he can’t hear them, can’t hear anything but Jamie’s crying and Steve’s last words, his name, and please, and Tony know’s what he was trying to say, please don’t hurt our son, please.

He doesn’t realize he’s repeating the words over and over until the person pulls him into their body, shushing him and petting his head with shaking hands. He’s sobbing so hard his body physically hurts, but it’s nothing, nothing compared to how he feels inside, he’s hollow, filled with nothing but pain, his family is gone, Steve is gone…

 

He wakes up in his bed. His and Steve’s bed. He can smell Steve on the sheets. He’s going to roll over and Steve is going to be there, smiling at him in the soft morning light, finger to his lips, telling him to be quiet, because Jamie just fell back to sleep and maybe they can have a little alone time before he wakes up again.

He opens his eyes and looks at the ceiling. Takes a deep breath and rolls over.

A harsh sob escapes him before he even finishes moving, his entire body shaking, and his eyes blur. The bed is empty.

He tries to stop the tears but it feels like they’re drowning him.

 

He wears black to the funeral. He’d told Steve once that wearing black to a funeral was stupid, it’s depressing and funerals were supposed to be a celebration of life and he’d want everyone to wear the most garish colors imaginable to his, and toast a glass of champagne (or stupidly expensive bourbon) to him as they lowered him into the ground. Steve had laughed and said of course he did, and smiled that smile of his that made Tony want to swoon like a damsel in some dime-store romance novel, eyes twinkling.

Tony wears black, because there is nothing to celebrate here. Nothing to celebrate about his husband and infant son being taken from him so forcibly. Nothing to celebrate about two such beautiful souls being ripped from this world before their time.

He doesn’t make a speech, he doesn’t even remember who does. He has a vague idea that Thor got up there at one point, but has no idea what he would have said. Hundreds, possibly thousands of people have gathered outside the cemetery, wanting to pay their respects to Captain America and his son, but security is keeping them outside the gates, allowing only the small party of private mourners to approach the burial site.

He watches as the caskets are lowered into the ground. Steve’s, with the American flag draped over it like the National hero he is. Was. And Jamie’s. The tiny little wooden casket engraved with vines and flowers and words someone had chosen in his mental absence, probably Pepper. It’s so small, much too small to contain something as large as death.

He wonders where Steve’s shield is. Probably back at the Tower, in lockup so SHIELD doesn’t do something stupid like take it away and give it to some new Captain America.

He sits and watches numbly as they disappear into the earth, and then Rhodey helps him up to throw dirt on top. He’s moving like a robot, he knows, which is funny, because he’s Iron Man. He goes through the motions, watching as a line of people throw dirt on top of his family, as they slowly walk away back to their cars and limos and go back to their lives.

Tony sits in his white plastic chair and waits until everyone leaves. Waits until the caskets are buried under fresh earth and he’s left completely alone. It’s starting to get dark outside, and he wakes up from his stupor enough to stumble over to the new headstone, fall to his knees and put his head in his hands. He traces their names, Steven Grant Rogers, James Edward Stark-Rogers. Steve, with his smile and his eyes and his amazing brain and his sneaky sense of humor. And James, little Jamie, who took after both his dads even so young, stubborn and clever and so beautiful it hurts to think about. Tony lies down and curls up into a ball, body aching, uncaring of the cold or the wind or the damp earth on his clothes, and wishes he could sink down under the ground lay with them, because that’s where he belongs, where they are, because there’s nothing left for him here without them.

His team finds him hours later, nearly frozen but feeling nothing at all, and as they lead him away, he knows part of him will never leave here.

 

2.

It’s morning, that much he can tell, because even though Tony installed the best blackout shades money can buy in his penthouse apartment, Steve prefers to wake up with the sun, something stupid about natural light and Vitamin D and blah blah blah. Tony thinks it’s just his attempt to get Tony to wake up before noon.

The unwanted sunlight is shining brightly through his closed eyelids, painting them red, and he groans pitifully and rolls over, pulling his pillow over his head. He hears Steve chuckle and removes the pillow to smack blindly at Steve with it. Steve just laughs again and grabs it away from Tony, rolling him back over and pulling him towards the sunny side of the bed.

Tony kicks out petulantly, whining, “Steeeeve.” He climbs half on top of the bigger man, shoving his face into the side of Steve’s neck. He smells like he just got out of the shower, which is most likely the case. Probably already went for a thousand mile run and annihilated a hundred punching bags, then made breakfast for the early risers on the team and showered and climbed back in bed with Tony. All before ten o’clock. Life with Captain America, ladies and gentlemen.

Steve huffs a laugh through his nose, petting the back of Tony’s head, smoothing his unruly bedhead down. “You’re such a brat,” he rumbles, throat moving under Tony’s mouth. Tony starts kissing it, following the vibrations when Steve keeps talking. “I made breakfast, there might still be some left if you get up now,” he says. Tony hums, biting at a particularly nice patch of skin. Steve makes a startled noise, then sighs and stretches his neck out, the hand on the back of Tony’s head becoming more possessive, pulling Tony into his body. Tony makes a happy noise and obliges, wriggling and getting more comfortable, one leg thrown over top of Steve’s and lips moving down his neck to mouth at his clavicle.

Things are just starting to head in the right direction when Tony’s phone buzzes on his bedside table. He reaches over to silence it and continues his way down Steve’s chest, the other man’s breath coming quicker and his hands roaming over Tony’s body. A minute later Steve’s phone starts to ring, and Tony groans loudly.

Steve sighs, kisses Tony’s forehead before pushing him off and reaching over for his phone. He looks at the screen and frowns, glances at Tony and accepts the call.

“Steve Rogers.”

That’s the Captain America voice, and Tony groans again, Steve shooting him a glare. Tony rolls out of bed, because that’s the end of this morning’s shenanigans, he might as well start his day.

“Yes,” Steve says, looking at Tony again. Tony heads toward his dresser, thinking about what he’s got on his plate for today, whether he can get away with jeans and a band shirt or if he’s got that shareholder’s meeting Pepper’s been talking about for a week. Is that today? Or tomorrow?

He opens his mouth to ask JARVIS for today’s itinerary when Steve’s voice stops him.

“Tony.”

Tony turns immediately, sees Steve standing next to the bed, face pale, arms hanging at his sides, phone still clutched tightly in his hand. Tony freezes.

Steve’s eyes are agonized when he speaks, but his voice is level. “There’s been an accident.” Tony reaches out for the dresser behind him. He’s 21 again and there’s a police officer telling him the same exact thing, that his parents are dead, were killed on impact. He shakes his head sharply, pulling himself back to the present, though he’s not sure if he wants to be here either. He wants to ask Steve who, but he can’t get the words to come out. Steve hears him anyway.

“It was a car accident. Happy— Happy didn’t make it. Pepper’s in critical condition.” Tony sways and then Steve is there, holding him up, talking to him. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Tony,” he’s saying. Steve is hugging him, and Tony thinks it may be the only thing keeping him upright. “The car flipped, she’s in the ICU, she’s there now, Rhodey’s with her.” Tony takes a deep breath, gets himself under control, pushes away from Steve’s chest.

“Get dressed,” he says. His voice comes out rougher than he expected, but he clears his throat and tries again. “We’re going right now, go put some clothes on and tell the team. I’ll be right behind you.” Steve nods and turns around, leaving the room and shutting the door quietly behind him.

Tony rests his arms on the dresser and bows his head, eyes welling up and breath hitching dangerously. He allows himself ten seconds before he takes a deep breath, wipes his face, and disappears into the bathroom with a change of clothes.

They get to the hospital in under 30 minutes and Tony is pushing past the reception desk, ignoring the shouting behind him. He hears Steve talking to the nurses behind the desk and the security guard he brushed off, and for a moment he’s so grateful Steve is here, and then he’s forgetting about Steve completely, rushing down the hallway, skidding around a corner until he sees Rhodey pacing outside the ICU wing.

He crashes into Rhodey’s arms, and they’re holding each other up, shaking apart together.

Tony pulls away and starts shooting off questions. “How is she? What happened? Can we see her?”

Rhodey shakes his head, runs his hand over his short-cropped hair. He gives a gusty sigh, breath shaking slightly. “No, she’s still in surgery. They were hit head on, a drunk driver, going the wrong way on the highway. They say—“ Rhodey’s voice gives out with a croak. He tries again. “They say Happy was killed on impact. The car rolled, four times. They pulled Pepper out with the Jaws of Life.” Tony has the back of his hand pressed to his mouth, to stop words or whimpering or possibly vomit, he doesn’t know, but he presses it harder and squeezes his eyes closed and feels Rhodey reach out and grab onto his arm, squeezing hard.

Just then a doctor comes out from the double doors in front of them, pulling his mask down under his chin. They turn to him, Rhodey squeezing Tony’s arm sharply, a nonverbal command to keep his mouth shut. Tony wants to glare at him but can’t look away from the doctor’s face.

The doctor looks exhausted and possibly sad, Tony can’t tell, he just wants the damn man to speak. He looks at Rhodey, then Tony, seems to make a connection, then speaks.

“We’ve managed to stabilize her, she’s out of the woods for now. There was some significant damage to her lungs, so we have her attached to a breathing tube at the moment. Some broken bones, which were the least serious of her injuries.” The doctor pauses, takes a breath, then goes on. “There was also severe damage to her skull, with swelling and bleeding in her brain. It’s stopped, now, but we won’t know the effects, if there are any, until she wakes up. Which could take hours or days, I don’t have an answer for that, I’m sorry,” he says before Tony can even ask.

Rhodey nods and asks when they can visit her. The doctor tells them he’ll send a nurse out to get them as soon as Pepper’s settled. He thanks the doctor, who nods back before disappearing back into the ICU. Tony reaches up and grabs the hand Rhodey’s still got clamped to his bicep and Rhodey turns his hand, grips onto Tony’s fingers tightly. They stand like that until a nurse comes out to get them a quarter of an hour later.

It’s three days of waiting, of crying and begging and praying (on Rhodey and Steve’s part, because Tony doesn't believe in God if God would kill Happy and put Pepper in the position she’s in now) before the swelling in Pepper’s brain goes down, and the doctors take Rhodey and Tony into a conference room to discuss her condition. They tell him she’s brain dead. That she’s not going to wake up at all, no matter how long they sit here and wait. That her brain was so damaged in the accident that even if she did wake up, she’d be vacant, a vegetable, no brain function at all. That right now she can’t even breathe on her own. She’d have to be fed and watered and bathed and cleaned and taken care of 24/7 for the rest of her life.

Tony can’t accept this. He rages. He screams and shouts and calls the doctors incompetent and stupid and he wants to take Pepper some place else where people know what the fuck they’re doing, and Rhodey tries to calm him down but he pushes him away, screams at him, asks why he’s okay with letting them do this to her, why he’d let them throw away Pepper’s life. He sees the tears tracking down Rhodey’s face but he ignores them, and the doctors shake their heads sadly and leave the room, Rhodey telling him to just take a minute to himself to calm down before he leaves, too. Tony is panting, hands clenched around the edge of the table, when the door opens behind him. He can feel it’s Steve, hear it by the way he walks, he wonders if Steve’s been here the whole time, and Steve’s arms go around him and Tony turns and collapses against him, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt and sobbing into his chest.

Rhodey comes back in a little while later. Steve’s sitting with Tony on a black leather couch in the corner of the conference room, stroking his hair gently. Rhodey rolls up one of the chairs from the conference table and sits in it, clasping his hands between his knees.

“Tony,” he says softly. Tony looks up and Rhodey’s eyes are red and puffy, and Tony reaches out to him pathetically. Rhodey takes his hand, holding onto it tightly. “You know what they brought you in here to tell you, right?” Tony shakes his head and turns it into Steve’s chest. He knows. Oh, he knows, but he’s not going to acknowledge it. He doesn’t know how he can be expected to.

Rhodey clears his throat, squeezes his hand. “You do, I know you do.” Tony shakes his head again, throat clenching. “You’re listed as her health care proxy. They need you to decide what she would have wanted.” Tony’s still shaking his head, and Steve’s hand is there, petting gently, holding him steady.

“I can’t,” he chokes out. “I can’t do that. I can’t make that decision. I— It’s too soon. She could still wake up, still be okay, she’s Pepper, she’s been away from her desk for too long, she’s probably going crazy inside her own head and she’ll wake up and ask for a tablet and the stock ratings—“ He breaks off, unable to say any more. He sits up, removing himself from Steve’s strong arms and pulling his hand free from Rhodey’s. He rubs his face in his hands, scrubbing his eyes hard with his fingers. They’re gritty and swollen and he’s sure he’s dehydrated.

Rhodey is quiet but firm when he replies, “She’s not going to wake up.”

Tony’s eyes fill with tears again. Steve’s big hand is rubbing soothing circles on his back while he struggles to gain control of himself and his emotions.

“You need to decide what she would have wanted,” Rhodey says. “You need to decide soon.” Tony remembers the doctors saying she can’t breathe without a ventilator right now, and thinks how easy it would be to take a life so precious. Rhodey takes a slow breath, then says quietly, “For what it’s worth, I don’t think she would have wanted this.”

Tony clenches his jaw and squeezes his eyes shut, forcing back the tears. He needs to be strong for this. He needs to do this for Pepper, do what she would have wanted, do the right thing.

In the end it’s hardly a decision at all. Pepper would have hated being an invalid, would have hated having no dignity. Tony keeps telling himself that it’s not Pepper in there, in that body, that it’s just a shell of someone who used to be Pepper, that Pepper’s already dead and gone. It doesn’t make him feel any better.

He signs the papers to pull the plug two days later. Two days of knowing the right thing to do but unable to do it. Two days of sitting at Pepper’s beside, asking for her forgiveness for not being there, for not being better, for not knowing what she would have wanted. He feels like he should know. He feels like he does know. But what if he’s wrong? What if he decides to pull the plug and she would have wanted him to wait, maybe just a week or two to see what happens? What if he pulls it and she could have made a full recovery? Medical miracles happen all the time. Just look at his chest.

The doctors list their probabilities and prognoses and none of it makes Tony feel any better. They’re gathered around the bed, one doctor, one nurse, Tony, and Rhodey. Steve is waiting outside. He told Tony that he thinks this is something personal, something between the three of them that he shouldn't necessarily be part of, but that he’ll be waiting for Tony right outside the door. Tony grabs Rhodey’s hand again, while the nurse unplugs the breathing machine from the wall. They watch as Pepper breathes in a few times on her own, watches as her breaths become shorter, more labored. She never opens her eyes, never panics and signals that she’s suffocating, choking, dying. She just breathes less and less, until her chest doesn’t rise again, and there’s a long beeping from the heart rate monitor, and then the nurse reaches over to shut that off, too.

 

3.

They’re playing backgammon. Again. He’s getting so bored with the game that he’s getting sloppy, and Yinsen is kicking his ass. He groans dramatically and throws his hands up, standing and grabbing his car battery before pacing circles around their room. Oh, sorry, their cave. 

“I’m literally going insane. Nuts and bolts crazy. I feel like a crazy person. Do I look like a crazy person?” Tony asks, looking over at Yinsen. He shakes his head and laughs harshly. “Don’t answer that, I’m wearing a tank top in a frozen cave with a car battery wired to my chest while playing a game of backgammon. I am a fucking crazy person.”

Yinsen doesn’t look up from the board game, instead humming and making his next move. “Tony Stark, you have always been a little less than sane,” he murmurs, concentrating.

Tony sighs again and slumps back down in his chair, setting his battery back down beside him. “How do you stand it? Being locked down here like an animal.”

Yinsen hums again, this time looking up at Tony through his glasses. “I believe that what’s coming will come. I have faith in my God and in his justice.” Tony wants to snort, but this whole kidnapping thing may have changed the way he looks at his life, he’s not sure yet but it’s possible. He still might not believe in God or anything like that, but he’s got this vague concept of karma in the back of his mind, that he’s getting what he deserves for what he’s done all his life, even if it was in ignorance. Someone has to be held accountable for it, all the horrors and deaths and wars. He’s under no delusions that he’s a good man, he knows he’s much closer to the opposite, and this might be his punishment. His karma.

And while he may not be around to see it, he’s pretty sure he believes that these men, the Ten Rings, will get what’s coming to them as well.

So instead of laughing at Yinsen’s words of devotion, he makes a hmph noise and leans forward to study the board.

They play in companionable silence. Time passes slowly here, in this godforsaken cave in the middle of nowhere. Tony doesn’t know how long he’s been here, a prisoner to a terrorist faction, but he knows Yinsen has been here longer, taken from his family in Gulmira, and he must be dying to get back to them. Tony doesn’t have family, just Pepper and Rhodey and JARVIS, and maybe that says something about his life that his top three most important people are his P.A., the military liaison for Stark Industries, and an AI he created.

“Tell me about your family,” Tony says suddenly. Yinsen looks up questioningly. “Wife? Kids? Are they smart? Wanna be doctors, like you?” Tony throws out questions before he can think better of it. He doesn’t know if he’s crossed a line; so far, every time they’ve talked about Yinsen’s family he’s found a way to sidestep the topic. But Tony learned long ago how to bulldoze through uncertainty and awkwardness to get answers, and right now he wants to hear about things worth living for, things worth going home to.

Yinsen smiles. “Yes, I have a wife. A beautiful wife, who I love more than anything. And two children, one boy and one little girl. My son wants to be a doctor, yes. He is the age where his father is still his hero.” He smiles wistfully. “My daughter, on the other hand, wants to be a ballerina.” His smile widens, and Tony grins back.

“Adorable,” he says. He’s about to ask their names when there’s a loud rumble above them and a few rocks shake loose from the ceiling. Tony’s standing before the shaking stops, making his way over to their equipment, ensuring nothing has been damaged irreparably. They’re making the miniaturized arc reactor tomorrow, they can’t afford a set back. Everything looks okay, and Tony hopes it stays that way, because they don’t have enough materials to make a second prototype.

He makes eye contact with Yinsen as there’s another rumbling, and it sounds like an explosion this time, a little deeper and a little closer. They cover their heads as some bigger rocks come tumbling down, and the electricity flickers but steadies after a moment. Tony wants whatever it is to just stop already, it’s putting their project in danger, but he doesn’t, because what if it’s a rescue? What if they’ve found him? Tony Stark’s gone missing, there’s got to be people searching for him. And Rhodey was there, in the hum-vee behind him, and Tony doesn’t think it got hit in the attack, and what if it’s him, coming to find Tony finally?

Tony tries not to get his hopes up. There are a couple more rumbles over the next hour, but nothing as loud as the last one, and one far-off firefight that lasts for about fifteen minutes before it’s over. Tony’s just starting to settle down again when the metal locks screech on the door and he’s hurrying over to stand by Yinsen.

Several armed thugs come hurrying into the room, guns at the ready. Tony and Yinsen have their arms already up, hands linked behind their heads. The men are laughing and smiling, and Tony’s heart sinks as he realizes that whatever the explosions had been earlier, they must have worked out in the Ten Ring’s favor.

A half dozen guards file in the door and Raza enters after them, smile glinting malevolently in the dim light of the cave. There’s something swinging from his grip, something that looks disturbingly familiar.

He struts into the more well-lit portion of the room, approaching Tony and Yinsen, and Tony doesn’t know if he’s ever felt this level of hatred before in his life. Then the man holds the head up, because that’s what it is, a severed head, and he’s holding it by the straps of a military desert camouflage helmet, and it’s a black man, and then it all pieces together and it’s like Tony’s been hit in the chest with one of his Jericho missiles because he can’t take a breath, his vision is spotting black, it’s Rhodey, it’s Rhodey’s head. Rhodey had come to rescue him and the Ten Rings had killed him and his unit and that’s what the explosions were, it was a rescue attempt. Rhodey died trying to save Tony. Rhodey’s dead, and the bastard in front of him is holding his dismembered head and grinning at Tony and Tony makes to leap forward and kill him and one of the other guards smashes a gun into the side of Tony’s temple and Tony blacks out.

 

4\. 

It’s darkness, if darkness had a texture, and a smell, and a taste. Thick and swirling, like a black fog, it wraps around his body, cushions him, carries him along to nowhere. It fills his senses, smelling like sleep and death and sorrow, pouring out of his eyes in blacks and blues and dark purples and shades of grey.

There is no up or down, no left or right or backward or forward. Just the heavy blankness of thoughtlessness, and he thinks that maybe he’s asleep, but he feels aware in a way that’s either one of those very vivid dreams, or he’s in some kind of coma. He doesn’t know how he knows he’s a he, but it feels right. Feels like maybe he’s a person, has a past of some kind. Maybe this darkness is purgatory, and he’s waiting for judgement for his sins.

He’s beginning to break through that emptiness now, beginning to have real thoughts. He should probably try to wake up, if that’s what this is, some type of unconsciousness or sleep. There’s sound coming from outside his body, because he has a body, he can feel it, far away, he has limbs and a face and fingers and toes, a heart that beats and lungs that breathe. 

He tries to pull himself toward that awareness, but the tide of darkness is pulling him in the other direction, away from his physical body, back into the sightlessness and heavy silence of his mind. He’s afraid of his mind, scared of drowning in such a dark, lonely place, but he’s powerless to resist, and it wraps around him lovingly and buries him back into nothing.


	2. Chapter 2

_Hope in reality is the worst of all evils because it prolongs the torments of man._

-Friedrich Nietzsche

 

5.

“You’re out of your mind, are you actually serious right now? There is no way, absolutely _no. Way._ Gandalf beats Dumbledore in a magical showdown. You’re out of your mind, Banner, I can’t even handle you right now.”

A ball of paper hits Tony in the side of the head and he gasps in mock outrage. Turning, he puts a hand over his mechanical heart.

“Bruce, how could you?” he says plaintively. Bruce just laughs and shakes his head at Tony’s antics.

“You’re ridiculous, Tony,” Bruce says, smiling. There’s a twinkle in his eye that Tony loves to see. Bruce needs a little lightness in his life, he’s always so serious and everyone tiptoes around him but he’s really just a big teddy bear, a teddy bear with a big green alter-ego, and Tony’s happy to spend some time decompressing with him, doing Science Things.

Tony tsks reprovingly before he pushes his goggles over his eyes and gets back to work, Iron Man parts spread on the workbench in front of him. Bruce just keeps smiling and gets back to his own work, something DNA-related with swirling strands of letters and numbers winking in and out of existence at Bruce’s whim on the other side of the room.

There’s a banging sound from the stairwell and Bruce looks up at him, eyebrows raised, and Tony shrugs. 

“JARVIS?” he asks. “What was that?”

“Sir, it appears there are military personnel climbing the tower stairs, attempting to access your laboratory.” There’s a pause. “I am unable to lock them out, sir. It seems they have broken into my systems without my knowledge.”

Tony whirls around, pulling up camera views on the screens in front of him. There are indeed military personnel in his tower, Army, specifically, dressed in full tactical gear.

“Why are they here, JARVIS?”

It’s a moment before JARVIS answers. “It is classified, sir. I have taken the liberty of accessing their files regardless, and it looks like they are here for Dr. Banner.”

Tony’s eyes fly to Bruce, who looks just as shocked as he does. All of the color drains out of his face, and his eyes are wide and fearful, and just the tiniest bit green around the edges. 

“It seems General Ross is leading the mission, sir,” JARVIS announces.

Tony is still looking at Bruce, and doesn’t miss it when his eyes go from fearful brown to flashing green, full of rage and hatred. Bruce starts panting, body shaking, and Tony crosses the space between them carefully, grabbing Bruce gently by the hand and pulling him toward the private elevator.

“Bruce, come on, don’t lose your cool now, we have to go. We have to get out of here, come on, I’ve got a helicopter, we’re going to California, we can figure it out there, but you have to calm down and follow me. Come on, Brucie-Bear.”

Tony’s all but dragging Bruce across the room behind him, praying Bruce can keep control of the Hulk long enough for them to get out of here safely. He gets to the elevator and pushes the button frantically, but the elevator doesn’t open. “JARVIS!”

“I’m sorry, sir, they have shut down the elevators as well.” He sounds apologetic and frustrated, but Tony doesn’t hear that, can only hear the men storming up the stairwell across the room.

“JARVIS, where’s Steve? Thor, the rest of the team. Where are they?”

There’s a pause, too long, before JARVIS answers. “Location Unknown.” JARVIS says, voice flat. Tony swears. Someone hacked his fucking system, and he didn’t see it coming. They were sneaky, good enough to get in without him noticing, and now his team was missing, and the last thing they needed in a New York City skyscraper was Bruce hulking out uncontrollably.

He turns to Bruce urgently. “Bruce, listen to me.” Bruce is breathing heavily, but he locks eyes with Tony. Tony shakes him slightly. “You cannot go green, okay buddy? That’ll just give them another reason to take you in.” Bruce looks at him, looks past him, and Tony shakes him again, a little harder. “Do you hear me? You can’t hulk out, Bruce.” Bruce gives him a little nod, and it’s the best Tony’s going to get so he nods in return.

Just then the stairwell doors slam open, and General Ross stomps in in all his sadistic glory, gray hair cut sharp as ever and an ugly light in his eye. Men pour out behind him, lining the far wall and spreading out in formation. Tony steps in front of Bruce.

“What the fuck are you doing in my tower?” he snarls. He’s beyond pleasantries and being politically correct. If they want to storm his tower like a fucking battlefield, he’ll treat them like enemies.

He reaches out with a hand and a repulsor gauntlet flies to meet it, latching around his wrist comfortingly. The men directly behind Ross raise their weapons until Ross puts up a hand, and they relax slightly, muzzles pointed down but fingers still on the trigger.

“Mr. Stark, we are not here for you,” he says simply. “We are here for the monster.”

“Fuck you,” Tony snaps, reaching behind him to place his bare hand comfortingly on Bruce’s chest. “Bruce is no monster, and you’re not getting him. Get the fuck out of my tower.”

The shot comes before he’s ready, hitting him in the neck, and he stumbles, Bruce’s arms going around him. He gasps in a breath, his vision starting to go spotty at the edges, and he falls to his knees.

There’s movement, and shouting, and he can’t get a shot off because he can’t see straight and his arms are no longer working, but he’s sure he hears a roar, and more shouting and actual gunshots, and then there’s nothing.

He wakes up to someone shaking him, calling his name. He’s groggy, everything is fuzzy and his mouth is dry, and he’s laying on something cold and hard. It feels like tile, why would he be sleeping on tile, did he fall asleep in the lab again? 

Then he remembers. He is in the lab, and they took Bruce. They came into his home and shot him and took Bruce. He sits up quickly and almost vomits from the vertigo, but someone is holding him up and when he opens his eyes he sees Steve.

“Where is he?” he asks hoarsely. Steve hands him a glass of water, and Tony takes a sip, easing the dryness in his throat. He hands it back and Steve takes it, setting it down on the floor next to him.

“Steve, where’s Bruce?” Steve looks awkward, and sad, and Tony’s heart sinks. “Where did they take him?”

“Here, come sit down,” Steve says, not answering Tony’s questions. He helps him stand, guides him a short way across the lab to the ratty old couch he and Bruce like to sit on to watch old Star Trek episodes.

He collapses into the cushions and lets out a frustrated breath. “Okay, I’m sitting. Now fucking answer me. Where is Bruce? And where the fuck were you guys?” 

Steve looks down at Tony silently before he sits on the coffee table in front of him, knees touching Tony’s.

“Tony, I need you to understand, this wasn’t your fault. Okay?” Tony says nothing, and Steve sighs before he continues. “We were called away on a mission, the Avengers were, and JARVIS told us you were unavailable. That you would catch up to us, and that Bruce was out of town. So we went.”

Tony blinks uncomprehendingly. “What?” he asks. That makes no sense. Tony and Bruce were in the lab all morning. JARVIS wouldn’t lie.

Steve repeats himself. “We were sent out on an Avengers mission. They hacked into JARVIS, had him tell us Bruce was gone and you were indisposed. So we left.”

It’s starting to make sense now. They sent the team out of the tower, but kept Tony around to lull Bruce into a false sense of security. Only two Avengers to fight, instead of six, and one couldn’t afford to turn green without hurting the other.

“Where did they take him? We need to do something.” Tony starts to stand, and Steve gently but firmly pushes him back into the couch.

“Steve, what the fuck?” Tony tries to push his hand away, but he’s weak compared to Steve’s serum-enhanced body.

“He’s gone, Tony,” Steve says, voice soft. Tony freezes.

“What?” he breathes.

Steve takes a deep breath, squeezes the hand still gripping Tony’s shoulder. “You know Ross held a grudge against him. His science division came up with something yesterday. Something strong enough to—“ he breaks off, swallows. Continues, voice strained. “Strong enough to kill the Hulk.”

Tony doesn't hear any more. There’s a high-pitched whining in his ears, and his vision blurs. There’s no way, Bruce is indestructible. They can’t, they couldn’t, he doesn't understand. Bruce is just Bruce, he’s his buddy, his science bro, they watch stupid movies and play chess and argue hypothetical nerd scenarios with each other. Why would anyone want to hurt Bruce?

Steve is still talking to him but it’s all muffled in Tony’s ears. He tunes back in to hear Steve saying, over and over, “It’s not your fault. It’s not your fault, Tony.”

He wishes he could believe him.

6.

All he wanted was a bowl of cereal after an inventing binge. That was it. He was hungry and tired and finally done with the newest StarkPhone upgrades and he just wanted to eat something and take a hot shower and climb into bed with his warm super-soldier boyfriend. Was that really too much to ask?

Apparently yes, it was, because he turned the corner to the communal kitchen at 3 am to see that same super-soldier boyfriend locking lips with his newly recovered super-soldier best friend.

He keeps thinking about it. It’s all he can see in his head, Steve in his too-tight t-shirt and sweatpants, standing in the kitchen, glass of milk in front of him, leaning over the breakfast bar. And Barnes, sitting on one of the bar stools opposite, arms crossed on the marble countertop, tilting his head forward and up just enough to meet Steve’s lips with his own.

It’s sweet, so fucking sweet, like they’ve been waiting 70 years for it, and Tony feels so fucking out of place, like he’s the one on the outside, like he’s been the one cheating with Steve this whole time, because holy shit, that right there, Tony will never have that with Steve. It’s one kiss, and it’s already more than Tony’s ever had.

He remembers trying to be quiet and failing, stumbling backward, out of the room, and Steve looking up at him, eyes wide with desire or surprise or both, Barnes’s head snapping around to find him and pin him with his penetrating stare. He vaguely remembers the elevator doors opening, thank god for JARVIS, and falling back into the waiting compartment, before the doors shut quietly on both men still staring at him from the kitchen.

He takes his hot shower, spends most of it curled up on the floor like a pathetic teenager, trying to avoid feeling anything. If he lets himself think on it, he’ll lose it, he really will, because he gets that people cheat, he’s cheated before (he’s not proud of it), but he really fucking liked Steve, probably loved him, and Barnes was able to waltz right in and take him, take him _back_ , and it will kill Tony if he lets himself think about the fact that he was just a place-holder.

He eventually finds the strength to stand up, dry himself off and change into a ratty t-shirt and pajama pants. He climbs into his oversized bed, clenching his eyes shut against the emptiness on the other side, and tries unsuccessfully to think about schematics and designs instead of his boyfriend kissing another man.

It could be minutes or it could be hours later when the door creaks open and soft footsteps cross the floor. There’s a shift on the bed as Steve sits down. He knows it’s Steve, can smell him, all fresh soap and sunlight and leather.

“Tony.” Steve’s voice is wrecked. Tony tells himself that’s why he’s so weak, why he turns to face him so quickly.

His eyes are red-rimmed, and Tony’s heart hurts to know that he’s been crying, but then a flash of anger streaks through him. What right does Steve have to cry? Tony’s about to open his mouth and say so when Steve speaks.

“I love you.” 

It’s like a punch, like all the air has left his lungs. His whole body _flinches_ , throat tightening, and he has to open his mouth to gasp in a breath of air. 

“I’m so sorry,” Steve continues, voice choked. Tony opens his eyes, didn’t realized he closed them, and sees tears trailing down Steve’s face.

“I love you,” Steve continues. “But he’s—“ he breaks off, struggles to find the words. “It’s hard to explain. I’ve loved him since I was a kid, and then I lost him, and I—“ Steve closes his eyes against the pain that must be visible on Tony’s face. “I’m so sorry, Tony. I can’t lose him again.”

Tony doesn’t say a damn thing. Doesn’t think he’s ever been so quiet in his life. Doesn’t think he could speak if he tried, to be honest.

“I never meant to hurt you,” Steve says through his tears, reaching for Tony’s hand. Tony shakes his head, pushes his hand away, and hurt flashes across Steve’s face, but Tony ignores it. He rolls over in the bed, turning his back to Steve, and ignores the other man’s presence as best he can. Steve stays for a few more minutes, inches of space feeling like miles between them, before he finally stands and leaves the room, walking out of Tony’s life.

7\. 

Thick, black nothing surrounds him, and he feels like he’s been here before. Lost in the blankness, the calm darkness, wandering around maybe for eons, maybe for only minutes, there’s no sense of time here. Just a faint memory, a knowledge deep down that he’s been here. He knows this darkness, as unknowable as it is, he knows it and he’s intimate with it, and it knows him as well.

He has a sense that something is different, now, and that’s why he’s aware he’s here. If he could describe it, he would say he’s less unconscious and more sleeping, now, and maybe he can push through the depths and find the surface if he wanted to.

The awareness keeps coming, in gradual waves, slow and steady that he eventually identifies as his heartbeat. He has a heart, he has a body. He has eyes and a nose and a mouth, he’s breathing, he’s alive. He’s awake, or so close to being awake, for maybe the first time, he doesn’t know if he’s ever been awake before.

He can hear things. Smell things. He is thirsty. He thinks that if he opens his eyes he will be able to see, as well. He takes that last step, presses through the warm, inviting darkness, and opens them.

It’s bright. So bright. His eyes slam closed, away from the harsh light, before they flutter open carefully, squinting against the brightness. Things begin to come into focus. A ceiling. Lights in the ceiling. A window, with a chair beneath it. He thinks he’s in a hospital. He’s been in one before, he somehow knows this isn’t his first time, some deep knowledge telling him so.

People come in from a door he hadn’t noticed before on the other side of the room. Nurses, and a doctor, he recognizes the uniforms. They smile at him and talk and he hears them but doesn’t understand, knows the language but can’t make sense of the words. “You’re awake!” and “How are you feeling?” and “Mr. Stark!”

He tries on a smile and it feels forced. It stretches his chapped lips and he feels them split, wincing slightly at the sudden pain.

A nurse reaches to clean the blood, and he flinches away, startled. He doesn’t know her. He doesn’t know himself. Mr. Stark, they said? _Tony_ , some part of his mind whispers. _Tony Stark_. 

“I’m fine,” he croaks out. It seems he does understand. His voice is gravelly and hoarse from disuse, and he wonders how long he was wandering around in that darkness. Maybe he really was in a coma. Maybe he’s been in a coma for years.

The nurse clucks her tongue at him, though thankfully pulls her hand away. Tony lets out a small sigh of relief, though he quickly sucks in a breath when the doctor takes his wrist to feel his pulse. His skin crawls at the touch and he holds his breath, heart pounding, until the doctor lets go. He pulls out a small light that he shines into each of Tony’s eyes, then tucks it away. 

“Pupils are reactive, no lasting effects from the concussion,” the doctor states to a nurse, who nods and takes notes. He turns back to Tony. “Do you have any pain? A headache, nausea?”

Tony shakes his head no. He doesn't feel sick. Just tired, and confused.

“I had a concussion?”

The nurses exchange looks, though the doctor just nods in confirmation. “Yes, in your last Avengers fight. You fell some distance, though you were wearing the Iron Man suit at the time, which prevented any major injuries.”

Tony nods slowly, turning it all over in his mind. He fell, and got a concussion. It might explain the memory loss. He figures he should mention it.

“I…” he starts, trailing off. How exactly does someone say something like this? He tries again. “I don’t, uh… I don’t actually remember. Falling.” 

The doctor nods reassuringly. “That’s not uncommon with head injuries. The memory of the injury itself may or may not return, and that’s completely normal, Mr. Stark,” he says. His tone is almost soothing and Tony wants to bristle, feels like maybe he’s the kind of man who would take offense at being talked down to, but he can’t find it in himself to care.

“Actually, I can’t remember anything. Before this.” Tony gestures around himself, at the bed and the room. “Before waking up. I don’t remember anything.”

The doctor’s eyes go wide at Tony’s words. “Nothing at all?” he asks, disbelieving. Tony shakes his head mutely. The doctor murmurs something to the nurse behind him and she scribbles furiously on her notepad. He turns back to Tony.

“Do you know who you are?” the doctor asks carefully.

Tony shrugs. “Tony Stark,” he says. “Iron Man, apparently.”

“And you know who Iron Man is?” 

Tony thinks about it. Sees the image in his mind again, a flying suit of armor, shining red and gold in the blue sky. Sees Tony Stark, of Stark Industries. Of the Avengers. Sees his teammates, Thor and Bruce and Natasha, Clint, Steve. Bucky Barnes. He shrugs again.

“Sure. I know Iron Man. And Tony Stark.” He pauses. “I don’t remember being them. Him,” he corrects. 

The doctor nods solemnly. “Alright. We’re going to run some tests, see what we’re dealing with here, but try not to worry too much. Head injuries can be unpredictable, but memory loss is not uncommon, like I said before. Just get some rest, and I’ll be back later, okay?”

He leaves without waiting for an answer, patting Tony on the leg like a child on his way by. Tony shudders violently at the touch, nearly biting his tongue.

Two of the nurses follow, though one stays behind, checking the computer screen readouts. Tony clears his throat awkwardly.

“Can I have some water?” he asks, voice quiet. 

The nurse jumps, startled. “Oh! Of course, Mr. Stark.” She bustles around to the end of the bed where a table sits with a pitcher of water and a glass. She pours him one and puts a purple straw in it, bringing it around to the side of his bed. He reaches up to hold it but his hands are shaking with weakness and the nurse has to help him keep it steady.

The nurse speaks to him while he drinks. “You’ve had visitors, of course. They’ve come to see you every day since you’ve been here, your Avenger friends.” Tony takes a last sip and looks up, straw dropping out of his mouth.

“How long have I been here?” he asks, almost afraid of the answer.

The nurse smiles gently. “Six weeks, Mr. Stark.” Her voice is soft, as if afraid of spooking him. She raises the cup slightly, wordlessly asking if he’s finished, and he nods. Six weeks, he’s been asleep. In a coma. And his friends, his teammates, have been visiting him for those six weeks, and he knows them, knows their names, but he can’t remember knowing them at all. He wonders if he’ll ever remember. 

He doesn’t know for sure, but he thinks he’s the kind of man who couldn’t wait for answers to just come around, who would go out and find them himself if he had to. He decides to go with his gut.

“Are they here now?”

8\. 

They’re all sitting around him, his team, his friends, and he feels like he doesn’t know them at all.

**Author's Note:**

> Steve dies, Tony's kid dies, Happy and Pepper die, Bruce dies at some point. But they are all in Tony's dream, so it's not permanent. Nobody dies in real life. 
> 
> There are descriptions of violence and some gore, please tread carefully if this is a trigger for you. 
> 
> Tony suffers from memory loss and PTSD related issues. 
> 
> Overuse of famous quotes from famous people, consider yourself warned.
> 
> Please let me know if there are more things that need to be warned, I'll update this accordingly. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


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